


Same Place, Different Time

by NotLeanna



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, time travel (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLeanna/pseuds/NotLeanna
Summary: Still waiting for him, Merlin has the chance to discover something new about his King.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Same Place, Different Time

Merlin looked down at the creature, its breathing now shallow and ragged, and wondered if that had been his destiny all along, to kill everyone that was his kin until he’d be really alone in a world that didn’t have room for magic; a world he’d help build.

_With him._

_For him._

Merlin didn’t know anymore and it hardly made any difference.

“Thank you,” the creature said and suddenly Merlin was kneeling at its side, overwhelmed by the weight of those words, their wrenching echo. It was too much.

“I’d rather you stopped thanking me when I kill you.”

“My time has come and passed, Emrys, you know it as well as I do.”

Merlin bowed his head, “This world is no longer a place for us.”

“Oh Emrys, you’re still so young.” The creature’s breathing was becoming shallower and shallower, but luckily its words weren’t made of air; they sounded loud and clear in Merlin’s head, sharp as a mortal blow. He hadn’t felt young in so long, way before his hair started growing white and his skin wrinkly and thin. “I want to give you a gift. To thank you properly.”

“No, no, you really don’t have to.”

The creature completely ignored him, “He’s here. Would you like to see him?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your King has been here once,” the creature explained. “For me he’s still here. Would you like to see what I see? See him?”

“See the past?”

The creature shook its head, “They call it past, you should know better than make the same mistake.”

“Would it change anything?”

“Would it change your answer?”

“No.” Of course not.

“Well, then. I don’t have much more to give.”

In the seconds that passed between Merlin nodding his gratitude and trying to still himself in preparation to look into his blue eyes again, the scene around him had already changed. The trees were thicker and the light told him it was well after noon and not the early morning of moments before.

His King wasn’t there. No one was there, except for himself, the trees, and the creature that could experience all times at once, invisible but undoubtedly present.

When Merlin started to wonder if he’d been tricked somehow, he heard it, a soft wailing coming from just behind the first line of trees.

“Who’s there?” He called, as he approached whoever was hiding from him. He received no answer, and his shout had the only effect of making the sound louder. Merlin took another couple of wary steps. “I don’t mean any harm; I’m just looking for my friend.”

Everywhere. Always.

There was a rustle of leaves behind the trees and shrubberies and finally who was hiding came forth, point of his dagger first and then the rest of him. It wasn’t much. Small hands held tight around the handle, scrawny arms and legs; a child about six or seven years of age.

At first he didn’t recognise him, thrown off by the shivering of the weapon. But then a cloud moved and the sunlight got caught in his golden hair as he had seen happen so many times before and a flood of details hit Merlin all at once. The determined set of his jaw, tough he was sniffing and his cheeks were tear-stained; the same blue eyes that had once given him the gift of making him feel seen and loved, even if just for a moment; a nose he was still clearly growing into and Oh, how much he had missed that nose. He was wearing red. One of his sleeves had ripped near the elbow. He looked scared.

“Your friend is not here, sir!” Merlin didn’t recognise the voice either. There wasn’t much of his Arthur in those few shaky words; this little kid wasn’t the prince of Camelot he had met so many years before. I was trained to kill since birth. Maybe not.

He had always had a clear image of Arthur as a child: a charming kid - maybe a little on the chubby side - who always got away with every mischief his young princely self decided to inflict on the people around him; a younger version of the bully that inhabited the memory of their first meeting. It seemed he had been wrong and that it wasn’t kindness his King had learned along the way.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Would you mind if I wait here for him?” The young prince frowned, clearly not sure how to answer. That puzzled looked, that maddening puzzled look; he had missed that, too. “I’ll just sit over there and you can keep your dagger. It’s been years since we’ve last seen each other and if he doesn’t find me here we’ll probably never meet again.”

“Because you’re so old?” Arthur blurted out and as soon as the words left his lips his eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very polite of me.”

Merlin laughed at the improbability of it all. Arthur, the perfect little prince.

“Something like that, something like that.” Merlin said when he finally regained some semblance of composure. He didn’t have to look at the kid to know that confusion had settled once again on his face; it was all carved in his memory, from the displeased set of his mouth to his furrowed brow; Arthur had never liked to be left out. Oh, gods. “May I have your name?”

“I’m prince Arthur of Camelot,” at that the prince stood straighter, drawing his shoulder back and that was painful, Merlin thought, and wonderful, and so so unfair.

“Oh, a prince,” said Merlin instead, “what a coincidence, my friend is a king.”

Young Arthur’s eyes widened comically once again, this time in surprise. “My father’s a king. Maybe he is your friend.”

“What’s his name?”

“King Uther Pendragon.”

Merlin pretended to go for a nod of consent and then at the last second switched for a shake of his head. “No. Doesn’t ring any bell.”

As he watched Arthur’s excitement turn into clear disappointment with such unbidden joy, Merlin considered for a moment how low he had stooped to, for messing with a lost kid; but he quickly forgave himself when he was rewarded with so many cherished expressions he had long resigned himself to never witness again. It was balm and heartbreak at the same time.

“Oh,” Arthur said, “are you sure?”

“Quite.” Merlin confirmed and then couldn’t help but add, “My friend is the greatest King to ever exist. He’s a brave warrior and yet he’s not afraid to ask for advice to lords and servants alike. He loves his people more than anything and he trusts his friends with all he’s got,” and that has always been his problem, right? Dumb Arthur and his dumb idea that everyone was always as forthright as he was, that everyone held the same value system as his. And look at him, a frightened whelp and still declaring his name as if no one would have wanted to do him any harm; because prince or king, Arthur had never known deceit. His features must have shown some of his ancient rage or maybe it was his voice that had turned sour at the last bit, because the kid was once again wearing an expression of concern. Serves him right for trusting a stranger so easily. “And his feet? His feet were the stinkiest but try and tell him and you’ll find yourself drenched in his highness’s after training refreshment.”

Young Arthur chuckled and suddenly Merlin found himself unable to stop, “With all the baths you nobles take, one would guess you’d have a more pleasant smell, but oh no. Ask the poor servant who washes your father’s socks, they’ll tell you just so.”

“Is he funny like you? Your king friend?”

“Oh no,” Merlin shook his head with so much dramatic conviction some of his white hair ended up in his mouth. He sputtered and the child’s laugh filled his ears and heart. “Mind you, he thinks he’s hilarious but all he does is make the lamest jokes you could think of. Well, truth to be told, he thinks he’s the best at everything.”

“That seems like Morgana,” Arthur said, a broad smile on his lips. “Is he your best friend, too?”

Oh, kid; come on now! The little child was looking at him so expectantly, he swallowed down the knot of tears and pain and regret in his throat and nodded. “Yes.”

“Thought so; you don’t go wandering around in a forest for anyone.”

“Why are you? Wandering in a forest? Is Morgana here, too?” It was strange to say her name aloud after so much time but he needed to know if he had to save that dollophead of his King once again.

“No, my father took just me this time.” He said with pride. “It’s official Camelot business; he’s hunting down a sorcerer and showing me how to do it.”

Merlin’s blood turned cold as ice. “What a fun family activity. Does he often take you with him?”

“No, this is the first time,” as he was talking his smile slipped, “and it will probably be the last. I got lost trying to follow some trail and now Father will be so angry he’ll make me watch the execution.”

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to talk himself down from picking up the kid and just run, run until they reached somewhere so far away Uther and his twisted teachings couldn’t do any more harm. It would be so easy; he’ll shelter him from the evil of this world starting from his father. A hut in the woods, a small life away from treasons and backstabbing and lies and glory and destiny; even if it meant that his younger self would never meet Arhtur he’d do it. He’d trade everything for the long, happy life his friend deserved, Camelot be damned!

“Are you alright?”

Alright? How could he explain that he hasn’t been anything but for so many years he doesn’t even remember if he can feel alright? And to this Arthur who wasn’t yet his Arthur but somehow felt like it? Once again the little child was wearing an expression he knew too well to ignore it. He shook his head, trying to coax out all thoughts about the plan he was concotting to rescue Morgana and kidnap both Uther’s children.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Merling tried for a smile; it came out something rueful. “Does Morgana have to watch the executions, too?”

“Not usually, since she won’t be Queen she doesn’t have many duties except respecting Father and not bothering like the guards and Gaius. Basically she can do whatever she wants; father always lets her.”

Merlin ignored the pang he felt hearing Gaius’s name and wondered how he’d never figured out Morgana and Arthur were siblings before that fatal day in the physician’s chambers. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Arthur shrugged. He looked like he had something else to add but at the last second decided it was best not to. Maybe it was time to go, Merlin thought, but he physically couldn’t; he told himself it was to keep an eye to the young prince and immediately forgave himself for the lie. Instead, he sat down on a big stone in the middle of the clearing and watched as Arthur did the same, only on the grass.

“Does… Does your friend like to be king?”

“He has never told me,” The time he had wanted to quit came to Merlin’s mind and all the others he had to convince him of his worth; it didn’t feel like something to share with a kid. “But he very much liked being a knight.”

He knew it had been the right thing to say when he saw the prince’s eyes grow big and bright with excitement. “I can’t wait to start training,” he said, “Father says I’m too skinny to be any good but I’ll show him. One day I’ll be better than him.”

“That you’ll do,” Suddenly, he was hit by the need to see it all, to watch over Arthur while he grew into the man he knew and loved. It was so powerful a longing, he had to do something to keep himself from acting on it. Kids must eat, he thought, so he conjured some grapes and other fruits, concealing his magic into his long sleeve. “You must be hungry. Here.”

Arthur hesitated just a moment before joining him where he sat. The young prince smiled at him as he accepted the fruit he was given and Merlin noticed he was missing a tooth. He closed his eyes and stored the image with all the other things he wanted to tell Arthur when he’d come back to him. He couldn’t forget this one.

Merlin was listening to Arthur talking about his life in Camelot, familiar and unfamiliar details all mixing up together, when he felt the magic of the creature falter. And then he heard the sound of horses approaching and the voices of knights; it was time for another goodbye.

He stood up. “I should go,”

“Don’t you want to meet my father?”

“Not a great idea,” he said, already pulled by the creature’s magic to another, lonelier time.

Arthur looked at him, his thoughtful expression at odds with his blackberry-stained chicks. “Are you the sorcerer he’s looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered truthfully, “I honestly have no idea.”

Young Arthur nodded before turning his head towards the familiar noises. “I hope you’ll find your friend.”

“Don’t worry, I know I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
